


Sweet-Apple Blend

by unseenbox



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Tea as a love language, no beta we die like Glenn, post-A Support
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:00:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22138963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unseenbox/pseuds/unseenbox
Summary: Dorothea feels dragged down by the war. Ferdinand helps the only way he knows how: by making her a cup of tea.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Dorothea Arnault
Comments: 14
Kudos: 142





	Sweet-Apple Blend

She stood on the bridge again, looking down at the valley below. The ledge provided support, enough for her hands, which she folded together, and her body, which leaned over it. Not too far, she knew better than that, but enough that she bent at the waist. Ah, she'd chipped a nail, too. No telling when. Five years ago, she would've fixed it right up, or maybe tried to play it up for a sympathy date from a soldier. Not now. Who had time for beautiful things when the war trampled over them and left only ugliness in its wake? When people died in the opera, they went out singing. When people died out here, whether on the battlefield or in the streets or by her hands, they went quiet and cold. Snuffed out like a candle. No song, no glory. What use was a songbird, when there was nothing to sing about?

Dorothea sighed. Morbid again, huh. Down below, snow melted and joined the river and small birds hopped between evergreen branches. As if nothing had really changed. Maybe it hadn't for them. Come back in a year, and maybe those birds would still be there, building the same nests. A tremble ran through her. The spring hadn't shaken out all the cold yet. She really ought to head inside and try to find a fire to warm up in front of, to keep from catching a chill. Of course, given the crumbled walls and broken stone around them, she suspected that most of the buildings would probably be just as cold. And with a much less interesting view. She shrugged her shoulders up higher to keep the wind at bay. She could handle a little breeze, even if it did whip her hair around.

"Dorothea?" someone called, their footsteps slowing to a stop on her left. At the edge of her view, she caught a glimpse of riding boots still somehow polished to a shine and pants still pressed with a hot iron. A grumble caught in her throat. She didn't even have to look up; she'd know that puppyish voice anywhere.

"Come out here to enjoy the view, Ferdie?" She tried to sound teasing but it came out tired instead. Oh, well. She was tired of a lot of things, these days. Ferdinand, too. It took effort to recast a long-remembered gaze from full of suspicion and hatred into one of awe, and maybe sometimes she didn't want to spend that effort. Maybe she wanted to stew in it, some days, the surety she used to feel about him, as opposed to all this confusion. It was easier if she kept her head down, too, so she didn't have to look him in his all-to-open eyes. Oh, look, was that a swallow down there?

Ferdinand cleared his throat. "I happen to have found a merchant selling tea in the market, and I was wondering if you would like to… sample his wares with me?" She could hear the nerves in his voice when he spoke. She looked over and there he was, hand to heart, eyes wide as saucers. 

She tilted towards him, keeping one hand on the ledge as she took a step away from it. "Are you asking me on a date?" 

He flushed, and she ignored the way the pink complemented him, made him look so much softer. "I thought you might like a cup of tea. It is rather cold this morning, and…" He kept his hands to himself, but his eyes saw right through her, brown and pleading. "I could not bear the thought of you standing out here alone." She hated the way her heart fluttered. What gave him the right to be so kind? Oblivious to her distress, he carried on, "But… I suppose it is rather like a date, isn't it?" 

She could have turned him down, easily as breathing. He'd accept it with a smile and that would been that. The words didn't come. She just breathed into the Pegasus Moon air, measuring him with a glance. It ought to have been a glare. Would have been a week ago. But maybe she was too tired, even for that. She fixed her hair, tucking it and her earrings back into place, and gave a smile that on anyone else might be called 'shy'. 

"Oh, it's not as if I have anything better to do." She gathered her skirts, sparing one last look back at the valley below. Drawing herself up, she called, "Lay on, von Aegir." 

A shadow crossed his face, just for a moment, before he snuffed it out. He summoned a smile, the way he always seemed to, offering her his arm. "It would be my pleasure, Dorothea." Why did he always say her name like it was something precious? She let it go, just this once, and looped her free arm with his. 

He lead the way to the Dining Hall, somehow managing to avoid the slick puddles of mud on the cobblestones along the path. Impressive, if she did say so herself. He chattered as he went, greeting the workers and tipping his head, but he kept them moving. 

Not so long ago, she would have thought he was showing her off. Look at me, big important noble with a beautiful songstress on his arm. Don't you wish you were me, with all my power and prestige? But the thought tilted in her head, went sideways and warm. Maybe he said hello to the commoners along the way because he cared about them. Cared about her. 

The dining hall had not changed much, all told. It still served food, only much less of it. Knights lined up at the front for a meal. She froze, struck silent. Amazing how no matter how far from Enbarr she went, there were always people begging for scraps. People, not her. Not anymore. When the war ended, would it be her again? When her voice faded? 

"Dorothea? Are you all right?" Ferdinand's voice brought her back, as well as a soft touch to her arm. She looked up, blinking. 

With a shaky smile, she said, "Oh, fine. Not looking forward to today's special, though, I'll tell you that much." 

He gave an equally shaky smile in return. "The cooking can sometimes leave something to be desired." A grimace, now, perhaps remembering some lunch gone wrong many years ago. He drew himself back up, straightening with his silk tie. "Still, I believe the staff are doing the best they can with the ingredients they have, so we must show appreciation for their efforts." 

"I'll fill out a nice note for them later. But I think you mentioned something about tea. You're not holding out on me now, are you?" A tease entered her voice. Ferdinand caught it and flushed pink.

"I would never." He held her gaze, as if looks alone could impress his seriousness upon her. He couldn't hold it for very long, though, and looked over his shoulders at the cabinets. "I promised you tea, so… if you could give me a moment to fetch the tea set?" Awkwardness crept into his voice, and he fidgeted with his wild hair.

Dorothea laughed, tugging his arm before she wound around the table and took a seat on the bench. "Afraid I'll run out on you?" She twirled a strand of hair in her fingers. 

Ferdinand went blank in the face, almost cross-eyed, half-way around the bench. "Am I supposed to answer that?"

Oh, Ferdie. In some ways he really hadn't changed at all. Dorothea shook her head, earrings chiming. Bright eyed. "Tell you what, Ferdie. You'll know when you come back here with all your little goodies." 

"I-- yes, if you will excuse me for a moment?" The flush ran all the way down his neck as he walked away. Dorothea hummed, waiting. Nothing so fine as an aria, just a little melody. Some strand of music pulled from somewhere far away. She traced the whirls of wood with her fingers. A light touch. The table had lasted this long, so it'd be a shame if her nails chipped it now. She heard bustle and fuss along with quick strides, and when she looked up, Ferdinand approached the table with a bulky tray in his hands. A tea pot, some cups and saucers, and a platter of flakey pastries clattered on top of it as he walked. The tray seemed almost too heavy for him, weighing him down, but he bore it well enough, only jostling some of the ceramics when he put it down on the table.

He perched on his side of the table like a canary. Steam billowed from the tea pot. He bowed his head, sure-handed as he added the leaves to the brew. "I was not sure what sort of tea you might like, and the merchant only had a few varieties." Flushed again, he focused on his work, stirring the brew with a thin wand. "I hope you do not mind apple?" 

She drew one of the plates closer to her. "Can't go wrong with the sweet ones, can you?" Dorothea grinned, toothy. "But I really do like apple." 

"I am glad to hear it!" He could light up the lake with how bright he smiled then, blushing as he returned to his delicate preparation. "I made some of the pastries, too! The honeyed ones." He gestured at the sticky buns on the dessert platter. 

Dorothea leaned in to get a better look, careful to keep her hair out of the way. A laugh bubbled up. She glanced at him, coy. "Still trying to be a better bee, I see." 

His hands trembled around the strainer. His voice came out hushed. "If you allowed me, I would," he bit his lip, gathering himself, "I would follow you anywhere, Dorothea. To whichever flowers you liked." 

He meant it, too, didn't he? And wasn't that the worst thing. It'd be easier if it was all just some kind of joke, if he never meant what he said, if he'd lied about viewing her with awe all those years ago, if he could pretend for a minute to be full of the spite she imagined him to have. But he never did. He kept looking at her with those same honey eyes and that same hopeful smile as if nothing had changed. 

Across the way, Ferdinand held the tea pot like it was something precious. He would pour the tea slowly, careful not to spill a drop. He would cradle the saucers and cups as if they were made of glass. She would drink the apple tea he made for her, and it would feel a lot like love.

Tears pooled in her eyes. She centered herself, smiling through. "I think someday I might let you."

The way he looked at her just then, eyes blown with shock and flush to his cheeks and the smallest of smiles on his face, she imagined that day might not be so far off.


End file.
